“Time to wake up,” he said, opening thick curtains before sliding into the chair by the foot of her bed.
She blinked her eyes awake but did not try to shake away her grogginess. “There’s a Beatles song about sleep, you know?”
“There’s a Beatles song about everything,” he replied, fishing out a newspaper from his bag.
“But this one is different,” she murmured into her pillow.
“Why?” He asked.
“Because, it is the song that made me understand.”
“Understand what?” He looks up from his newspaper, listening.
“It’s okay to be lazy.”
Her eyes had closed again but she could imagine his forehead furrowing with anger. “It most certainly is not ‘okay’.”
She sang the song through a yawn.“Running everywhere at such a speed; Till they find there’s no need (There’s no need).”
“There most certainly is a need,” he implored with a hint of anger, “Your Majesty.”
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “To Sleep, Perchance to Dream.”